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DIXIE: You don't mean to tell me that wet-behind-the-ears puppy could ever take my place in a band.
CASH: I didn't say that. Although he does have that refreshing, blooming youth about him.
DIXIE: Just what exactly are you saying?
CASH: What do you think I'm saying?
DIXIE: You're saying what I think you're saying.
CASH: I think you know what I think I'm saying.
DIXIE: You'd better know that what you're saying isn't what I think you're saying.
CASH: Why do you always...
DIXIE: Only 'cause you never...
CASH: What if I said to you...
DIXIE: Ooh!
CASH: You know, this is just like the time when you...
DIXIE: You better not bring that up.
CASH: Hmph! Well, I think we've both been perfectly clear.
DIXIE: Ohh, perfectly. I quit!
CASH: Huh?
FLOYD: Cash, what are we gonna do?
WAYLON: She's gone with the wind.
CASH: Sit! I'll take care of this. I'd better. That talent scout will be here any minute.
OLIVIA FARMER: Hi, there.
WINCHELL BICKERSTAFF: Well, who are you?
OLIVIA FARMER: Olivia Farmer, designated chaperone to Winchell P. Bickerstaff, talent scout from the Grand Old Opry. That's you.
WINCHELL BICKERSTAFF: Ahem. Chaperone, huh?
OLIVIA FARMER: I'm working to get my community service merit badge.
WINCHELL BICKERSTAFF: Well, that's quite admirable, little lady.
OLIVIA FARMER: Then I'll have more than Sally Ann Merrybaum. Thinks she's so great.
WINCHELL BICKERSTAFF: Well, lead on, Miss Farmer. I'm a-lookin' for some talent.
CASH: Oh, Dixie, you ain't mad over a little joshing, are ya? I was only teasing you. You know how I feel about you.
DIXIE: Yeah, you have a lousy way of showing it.
CASH: I am trying to kiss and make up here. Now, won't you please accept my apology?
DIXIE: Blow it out your ear.
CASH: All right, you diva dog, but I'm in charge of this band, and ain't no one's indispensable.
DIXIE: You're in charge? Which one of us is in the driver's seat?
CASH: Now, listen, you... Now you got me riled.
TOD: All right! Yee-haw! Ride 'em, cowboy, away! Whoo-hoo!
COPPER: Yee-haw!
TOD: All right! This is the most fun ever!
CASH: Second-most fun ever.
COPPER: Mr. Cash.
CASH: Kid, I saw how blissful you looked singing. That had to be the best time you ever had.
COPPER: Oh, for sure.
CASH: Well, now, we can't let nothing in the way of that. Like I was saying, how'd you like to join the band?
COPPER: Really? Huh?
CASH: Yes, sir. Genuine Singin' Stray. What do you say?
COPPER: Yeah!
TOD: Copper, we were gonna have some more fun.
COPPER: Well, Tod can be in the band, too, right?
CASH: Well, uh...
COPPER: He's my best friend.
CASH: Can you sing, kid?
TOD: Uh...
COPPER: 'Course he can sing. Show him, Tod.
TOD: Whoa!
CASH: Hoo-hoo! Here's the good news: You're gonna be part of the entourage-y.
TOD: What's that?
CASH: That's French. Means you get to hang out with our star here, keep him happy.
COPPER: He does that already.
CASH: You know, fetch water, clean dog bowls fun stuff like that.
TOD: That's fun?
CASH: Does Granny have fleas?
COPPER: Aw, come on, Todd. It's gonna be great!
TOD: Well... OK.
CASH: All right, then. Let's get moving.
OLIVIA FARMER: Wasn't he amazing, the way he ate fire, Mr. Bickerstaff? Maybe you shouldn't have stood so close.
WINCHELL BICKERSTAFF: Now you tell me.
COOPER: OK.
CASH: Hey, Dixie.
DIXIE: You come crawling back.
CASH: Oh, by the way, you can't quit. You're fired.
DIXIE: Oh! What? You can't fire me! I already quit! Cash, you... Oh! Now you've got me riled. Ohh!
ZELDA: Ah, don't get your collar in a bunch, Dixie. Pitch a fur ball.
DIXIE: The nerve of that Cash! Where's he get off firing me?
ZELDA: Oh, I thought you quit.
DIXIE: I'm that man's heart and soul! It's plain as a pig on a sofa. That Cash can talk a dog off a meat truck. He talked me into getting sweet on him, and now he tosses me away like yesterday's cornbread!
ZELDA: Honey, I don't blame you for feeling hurt.
DIXIE: Hurt? What do you mean by that? You think Cash could hurt me? Mangy mutt.
LYLE SNOTGRASS: Oh, you'll howl real good today, fellas.
DIXIE: Oh, well, there's more than one way to skin a cat. Ahem. No offense.
LYLE SNOTGRASS: Soup's on! That's a good boy right there! All right, fellas, all right. Calling out the team. You know, if I could just play the banjo better, y'all would be eating steaks. Hey! I guess I'd better go practice.
CASH: Welcome to the band, kid. Let me do some introductions. That there is Waylon and Floyd. They're the, uh, brains of the outfit.
GRANNY ROSE: Oh, why I put up with this low-class crew of mutts is beyond me.
CASH: Uh, and that delicate flower is Granny Rose. Textbook version of growing old gracefully.
GRANNY ROSE: I got me an itch.
CASH: Yep. You'll never harmonize with a finer group of singing strays and... Uh, you are a stray, right, boy?
COPPER: Uh... '
TOD: Course he's a stray. You don't see a collar around him, do ya?
FLOYD: Well, that's true.
WAYLON: I don't see one.
GRANNY ROSE: No collar, no home.
CASH: Whoo! Good. Only strays allowed in this dog band.
COPPER: Tod, I'm not a stray.
TOD: Shh! It'll be our secret.
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